


Five Times Aziraphale Kisses Crowley on the Cheek (And One Time He Didn’t)

by midgetbird



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, ethereal idiots, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 02:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgetbird/pseuds/midgetbird
Summary: Aziraphale gets it into his head that cheek kisses are an innocent gesture to show gratitude. And Crowley throughout the ages suffers because of it.





	Five Times Aziraphale Kisses Crowley on the Cheek (And One Time He Didn’t)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfic in almost two years I think and unfortunately for you guys this was not beta read... so bear with me please. Also we all love this morons and I saw too many fanarts of them cheek kissing so I couldn't resist. Enjoy!

**_Golgotha 33AD- The Crucifixion_ **

It wasn’t a pleasant sight that one. Watching a man who he himself had met and known being crucified wasn’t something that he had wished for. No, Crowley had not wished this. This wasn’t caused by his side. And it wasn’t caused necessarily by Aziraphale’s side either. It was caused by Her. While Crowley had long wished that he hadn’t fallen he was sure that he’d never have to worry about that desire again. He didn’t want to be serving a God who was so cruel to wish that upon Her own child. Especially not after seeing that look on Aziraphale’s face the moment that the cross had been lifted and the reality set in. For all the chatting they had had moments before, Crowley knew that it was to distract himself; to push the reality of the situation away. Aziraphale couldn’t deny it now that the cross was up for sure. There was this look of pain, anguish, a questioning look that Crowley knew all too well. The look of someone grappling for a reason to justify this action. His heart felt heavy in his chest.

Rather than quickly leaving as he often did with his meetings with Aziraphale he stayed by his side as they watched as the young man hung there on that cross for being nothing but a good godly man. They stayed long after everyone else had left and watched the last of the blood drip from his body, seeing it dry on the wooden cross. Aziraphale let out a small sniff and Crowley watched as he wiped at his eyes. He miracled a scrap of soft fabric and handed it to the angel.

“Thank you, Craw-Crowley.”

He allowed himself to smile at him. “That’s alright, not like I had anything else better to do.”

Aziraphale let out a chuckle and moved his gaze from the son of Christ to Crowley. “I really do appreciate it.”

“He was a good man, I’ll give you that, Angel. Although I’ve got to say-”

He never did get to finish that sentence. He was hushed by an angel’s kiss to his cheek. Crowley’s cheeks went ablaze (not literally, despite the fact that he could do that if he wished) and he gazed at Aziraphale stunned.

“A thank you of sorts.”

The bastard then left Crowley standing in front of a wooden cross with lost words on his lips. You’d think after four thousand years on Earth he would be equipped to deal with something as simple as a cheek kiss. You’d be very wrong in thinking that.

****

**_The Globe 1601_ **

It really was quite a dull play. Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying it. Crowley on the other hand had a soft spot for Shakespeare’s comedies: A Midsummer Night’s Dream was one of his favourites. Shakespeare was an alright bloke himself, very committed to his work and enthusiastic. And he did have remarkable taste in dick jokes- an invention that to this day was still one of Crowley’s biggest prides. Regardless it didn’t take too much convincing to get Aziraphale to agree to the prospect of only one of them going to Edinburgh. Aziraphale had done far more complicated temptations for him than tempting a clan leader into stealing some cattle. It would be child’s play for him. Although Crowley found it quite dear that Aziraphale was worried what would happen to him if Hell found out. His reassurances that they would never know was the straw that broke Aziraphale’s back.

“Toss you for Edinburgh.”

“Fine. Heads.”

He flipped the coin.

“Tails, I’m afraid. You’re going to Scotland.” Thank god, Crowley was not in the mood to go to Scotland. It was dreadful this time of year.

It was then that they overheard Shakespeare talking to one of his workers.

“It’s been like this every performance, Juliet. Complete dud. It’d take a miracle to get anyone to come see Hamlet!”

Oh if only Shakespeare had waited another minute to say that.

Aziraphale turned to him with an eager look in his eyes. Now you see Crowley was meant to be the one good at tempting. Yet, somehow Aziraphale was the one who had the knack for tempting Crowley into just about anything. Just a bat of his eyelashes and he had him. It was quite frustrating really. And being said lovestruck fool (his soft fluttery feelings from Eden was solidly love by the time he got that first kiss at the Crucifixion) it was a struggle to battle between maintaining his tough demeanour and doing anything that Aziraphale wanted. This was one of the times when he had to sacrifice his bad guy persona.

“Yes, alright. I’ll do that one. My treat.”

A painfully radiant smile came onto Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, really?”

“I still prefer the funny ones.”

Before he could even think about leaving, Aziraphale pressed a kiss against his cheek in gratitude.

Crowley swallowed hard and attempted to gather his composure before quickly taking his leave. When he glanced back, he saw Aziraphale swept up in the play, happily eating grapes and got a knowing nod from a smug looking Shakespeare. Whatever the Heaven that means.

Paris 1793- The French Revolution

All Crowley could do was simply sigh at the idiocy of his ethereal counterpart. It was like he was just asking to be rescued despite the fact that he could simply just miracle himself out of the situation, but no Crowley was the one who had to come and bail him out.

“Well you’re lucky I was in the area.”

Lucky his arse. Crowley had sensed all the way from London where he was happily sitting out on all the goings on of the Revolution that Aziraphale was in trouble! And here he came running like an idiot to bail out that blessed angel.

“I suppose I am. Why are you here?”

“My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance.” Well they had… and then he’d gone back to London for a solid few weeks at this point before coming back for Aziraphale.

“So all this is your demonic work.”

Oh, how cute it was that Aziraphale still got so worked up on the idea that actually Crowley did his job: better yet that he thought that he did it well.

“No the humans thought it up themselves. Nothing to do with me.”

Aziraphale’s face softened and Crowley snapped his fingers.

The chains fell from the angel’s wrists and he rubbed at them with a smile.

“Well, I suppose I should say thank you for, uh, the rescue.”

Crowley bolted to his feet. “Don’t say that. If my people hear I rescued an angel, I’ll be the one in trouble. And my lot do not send rude notes.”

Aziraphale softly smiled and came over pressing his lips to Crowley’s cheek like he had done only twice before. “Well, anyway, I’m very grateful. What if I buy you lunch?”

The kiss was enough for him honestly and he was struggling to compose himself. Especially when Aziraphale had such a sweet look on his face and was so awfully close.

“Looking like that.”

He was surprised that even came from his lips. Crowley was struggling to breathe and he didn’t even need to breathe.

Aziraphale sighed and quickly miracled himself into the executioner’s clothes.

“Well, barely counts as a miracle, really.”

Crowley shook his head softly at him as he snapped his fingers and they watched the executioner be taken away to be beheaded in Aziraphale’s place. There was little they could change with what barely counted as a miracle after all.

“Dressed like that he’s asking for trouble. What’s for lunch?”

“What would you say to some crepes?”

He really just couldn’t give up on those crepes could he? As they walked out of the dungeon, Crowley trailed slightly behind Aziraphale and touched his cheek where an angel’s lips had been merely a minute before. His cheeks still felt warm and he sighed to himself. These feelings for Aziraphale would surely get him into trouble one day. But for now he’d enjoy some of those crepes that that angel was so insistent about.

**_Soho London 1800- The Bookshop Opening_ **

Crowley had come around trying to be a good friend you see. He was very proud of his angel for opening up his own bookshop; he’d been wanting to do so since the book had been invented and he’d succeeded. A warm smile fell on his face and he hugged the box of chocolates closer to his chest and continued on his way to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

He stood outside the open door of the bookshop and waved cheery at Aziraphale who looked concerned and looked to the two men whose backs were turned away from Crowley.

“But only I can properly thwart the wiles of the demon Crowley.”

Oh those weren’t men, those were angels. Crowley’s smile dropped and he pointed to the box of chocolates, mouthing, “chocolates” to him desperately.

“I do not doubt that whoever replaces you will be as good an enemy to Crowley as you are. Michael, perhaps.” That was definitely Gabriel, the dick.

Crowley met Aziraphale’s gaze and mouthed, “Michael? Michael’s a wanker!”

“Crowley’s been down here as long as I have. And he’s wily, and cunning and brilliant and oh…”

Crowley might just have blushed a bit at that; the sincerity in Aziraphale’s voice got to him.

“It almost sounds like you like him.” Of course he did! They were friends, Gabe.

“I loathe him,” liar, “And despite myself, I respect a worthy opponent… Which he isn’t because he’s a demon and I cannot respect a demon. Or like one.”

Even though Crowley knew he was lying that one hurt. But there were bigger things at hand, such as keeping Aziraphale on Earth with him. And yes Crowley was a petty bastard like that. No way in hell was he trading Aziraphale with Michael.

*

Oh this was just too fun.

He’d set himself up in the alleyway of the tailor that he knew full well Gabriel was visiting with a cloaked dummy whose face was obscured from the view of the store window.

“Are you certain that we are unobserved, oh monstrous creature from the bowels of the Hell?”

He put on a monster voice next, “No one is listening, oh demon Crowley.”

“Curses,” he says to the dummy, “If only I could understand why my evil plans are always so brilliantly thwarted. It’s as if the forces of Heaven have a champion here on Earth who thwarts me… thwartingly…”

Not his best line, but he was a bit rusty alright?

In his monster voice he said, “Why Mister Crowley, you must not be downcast. I hear news that will bring joy to you and all the powers of Hell. They do say as how the angel Aziraphale, your nemesis, is being sent back to Heaven.”

“Can this be true? I was going to swallow Holy Water in my despair at once more being beaten by the angel Aziraphale. But such excellent news! Only Aziraphale knows my ways well enough to…”

“Thwart them?”

“Exactly. Now let us repair an evil drinking den, and drink to the success of evil on this Earth, thanks to Heaven’s foolishness.”

That should do it, he thought. That should be enough.

*

Crowley returned merely an hour later with the box of chocolates.

“Oh, Crowley you’re back,” Aziraphale beamed at him.

“I thought I’d give you some time to sort out this mess with Dickhead and Arsehole.”

While Aziraphale gave him a look there was no heat behind it. “Yes, it was quite strange that merely ten minutes ago they came back and said that I must stay on Earth ‘battling evil’. You wouldn’t know anything about that sudden change would you?”

“Not at all.”

“And those lovely new roses in my vase that appeared out of nowhere?”

“Not a clue. I do come with chocolates though.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shined as he accepted the box of chocolates. “Belgian?”

“Of course.”

The angel looked up with him and his smile widened. Crowley couldn’t help but smile in return. It would’ve been such a shame if Aziraphale had gone back. He honestly didn’t know what he would’ve done had he left.

“I do believe that I saw a devilish looking bottle of red that would go great with these chocolates,” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale seemed to ignore him and continued to smile at him in that soft way of his before he came closer and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for whatever you did.”

Crowley didn’t have it in him to reply and Aziraphale was still so awfully close. It was when Aziraphale finally popped a chocolate in his mouth and wandered towards the couch.

“Would you be a dear and fetch the red?”

He nodded and robotically walked off to go fetch the red wine from Aziraphale’s cellar. Like the tamed lovesick fool he was.

****

**_London 1941- The Blitz_ **

The fifth time was in very unideal situation where -to no one’s surprise- Aziraphale was in need of another rescue.

And turns out consecrated ground hurt like hell. Which in itself is ironic really. And sort of funny if it had not been for the fact that Aziraphale had once again gotten himself into a strife. It was worth it just to see his angel again. Crowley wasn’t quite sure when Aziraphale had become his angel, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t at this point. It would’ve been nice if this wasn’t the first time that they had met in the last 80 years, but after the whole holy water argument… Crowley didn’t want to push his luck.

Regardless of his inner turmoil, Crowley continued to hop down the aisle of the church making pained sounds.

“Sorry, consecrated ground. Oh! It’s like being at the beach with bare feet.”

They were all giving him the most bewildered look.

“What are you doing here?” said Aziraphale.

“Stopping you getting into trouble.”

“I should of known. Of course. These people are working for you.”

Well that just hurts. And Crowley had far better taste in henchmen than these idiots.

“No. They’re a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running round London, blackmailing and murdering people. I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed.”

He jerked around like a headless chicken feeling the consecrated ground searing across the soles of his feet.

“Mr Anthony J. Crowley. You’re fame precedes you.”

He’d be flattered if that hadn’t been from the lips of a Nazi.

“Anthony?”

Of course that was what stood out to Aziraphale not that he was staring death -well discorporation- in the face.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.”

“The famous Anthony J. Crowley?” the woman said, “That’s such a pity that you both must die.”

Crowley wasn’t sure if he quite liked the look she had in her eyes as she looked him up and down.

“What does the J stand for?” Aziraphale was really not letting this whole name thing go.

“It’s just a J, really.”

Aziraphale had no need to know what it really stood for.

He looked over and his eyes widened at the font of holy water that was in the church. Oh goody.

“Look at that! A whole fontful of holy water. It doesn’t even have guards.”

“Enough babbling. Kill them both.”

Now that would not do.

“In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here. If you all run away, very, very fast, you might not die. You won’t enjoy dying and you definitely won’t enjoy what comes after.”

“You expect us to believe that.” Okay this Nazi was his least favourite. Definitely the biggest dick out of the three of them. “The bombs tonight will fall on the East End.”

“Yes, it would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course, yes,” he was quite proud of himself for that one, “You’re all wasting valuable running away time. And if, in thirty seconds a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for me and my friend to survive it.”

“A- a real miracle.”

Oh he forgot how daft his angel was.

“Kill them. They are very irritating.”

Crowley smugly pointed overhead as the sound of bombs whistling through the air echoed through the church.

They all look up at the ceiling of the church as the building begins to shake from the explosions happening around them. The church then promptly blew up from a bomb of its own.

He and Aziraphale stood in that rubble for a long while. It was only when the air raid sirens blared and the sound of people screaming could be heard that Aziraphale spoke to him.

“That was very kind of you.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, it was,” Aziraphale insisted, “No paperwork, for a start. Oh, the books!”

Crowley sighed, always back to the books.

“Oh, I forgot all the books!”

The demon beat back a smile as he walked over as the angel continued to fret over his books and grabbed the miraculously preserved bag from a hand that protruded from the rubble.

He passed it over to Aziraphale. “A little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?”

Crowley turned his back on Aziraphale and walked towards his Bentley which was parked unharmed on the curb. He looked back as he opened the door and saw Aziraphale with an unnameable look on his face.

“You coming?”

A small smile settled onto his face and he nodded quickly coming over and getting into the car.

Their drive to the bookshop was primarily made up of Aziraphale clutching to his seat for dear life as Crowley had far too much fun coining the popular term ‘speed demon’ over the course of a few minutes. By the time they got to the bookshop Aziraphale looked quite dishevelled in the most adorable way and turned to Crowley clutching his bag of books to his chest.

“This is your stop.”

He gave Crowley a soft smile and nodded. “I suppose it is.”

They both sat there for a while and Crowley spent far too long trying to figure out what that smile meant. The angel leant forward and held Crowley’s face with gentle fingers as he pressed his lips to his cheek. He settled back into his seat and smiled to himself. Crowley just stared at him, jaw dropped and a warm feeling coursing through him.

“Maybe we’ll meet again under better circumstances, hmm?”

And he left. Like usual leaving a stunned demon in his wake who had a heavy flush across his cheeks.

**_London Present Day: The Day After Armageddidn’t_ **

It should’ve happened in 1967. That was when Crowley should’ve returned the favour. When he should’ve been the one to kiss Aziraphale. He should’ve accepted that thermos and turned the tables on that bloody angel. But no. He had been far too stunned that after an argument that had spanned over a century that Aziraphale had relented with a tartan thermos and that soft hair and soft gaze that had Crowley melting. And then had promptly rejected him. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” He’d drunken himself into a hangover that lasted a week after that one. That angel gave very mixed signals.

But now here they were. In the back of Aziraphale’s bookshop having drinks after their lunch at the Ritz (it’s not like they could get unashamedly drunk at a place like the Ritz after all). He was already lounging across Aziraphale’s dingy old couch and waiting for him to bring up some of his best liquors for them to get absurdly drunk. To think that they had managed to the apocalypse by doing practically nothing other than realising that their respective head offices had been following the Great Plan and not the Ineffable one. They’d done practically nothing else other than that. Pretty useless angel and demon if you asked him. Not that it mattered anymore really. They had their own side now. They were just… neutral ethereal/occult beings.

“I thought 1947 Cheval-Blanc would be a good choice!”

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale as he pottered back in proudly holding the bottle. “Sounds good.”

He beamed at him and proceeded to sit down on the couch beside Crowley. He stiffened on the spot and gave Aziraphale an odd look. He never sat beside him in the bookshop. Not ever. They always sat separately. That was how this whole thing worked. He wasn’t sure if he could last a whole bottle of Cheval-Blanc sitting next to Aziraphale without doing something terrible: like pashing him. Will lots of feelings and all that gross stuff.

Aziraphale paid no heed to Crowley’s statue-like state and settled comfortably into the couch and popped the cork out with a flourish.

“Thank you, Angel.”

He laughed him off. “It’s just a drink, dear.”

“Not for that,” his voice was sickeningly soft; he wanted to bash his own head in.

That was when Crowley took the leap. When he tried to even the scales while Aziraphale was still focused on pouring their wine.

One big issue with that. Crowley did not anticipate Aziraphale turning to pass him his wine. So as you can imagine he was quite surprised when his lips met with lips rather than a cheek. He just barely grazed them before he jolted back, ears and cheeks burning like hellfire and hand covering his mouth. Aziraphale’s baby blue eyes were wide open and just staring at him in a daze.

“I… I was aiming for your cheek,” he spat out.

His angel blinked at him. “Oh?”

He nodded still hiding half behind his hand.

Aziraphale brushed invisible crumbs off of his vest. “That was quite a surprise…”

“You don’t say.”

“Quite disappointing though.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Barely lasted a moment really, quite a sad excuse for a kiss.”

He stared at him jaw slack as Aziraphale gave him a smile that was bordering on devilish. His confusion continued to skyrocket.

“I think we’ll have to try again.”

If his jaw hadn’t been hitting the ground before than it sure was now.

“You… you… bastard!”

Aziraphale raised a brow at the outburst.

“This is not fair! You spend the last two thousand odd years going around and giving me fucking cheek kisses and leaving me an absolute mess to come to me and have the nerve to suggest- suggest properly kissing me!”

The angels front fell. “You didn’t like the cheek kisses?”

“No, they were fucking delightful you prick.”

He brightened and looked far too pleased with himself. Now that just wouldn’t do.

Crowley decided to take up Aziraphale’s offer and swooped forward to cup the angel’s face and plant one on him. And fuck if it didn’t send a warm pleasant feeling throughout his entire body the second their lips met he didn’t know what did. It took a moment for Aziraphale to reciprocate, but when he did, his arms wound around Crowley’s waist and pulled him impossibly closer as he started to move his lips in tandem to Crowley’s.

He could’ve done that for hours as he poured his whole being into that kiss, trying to express the feelings that he’d looked up for the past few thousand years through the simple gesture, his hands slowly reaching up to curl into Aziraphale’s soft blond curls which he quickly discovered was just as soft as he had imagined. In turn Aziraphale’s hands drifted up to clutch at his shoulders and dug his nails into them to pull Crowley as close to him as possible. Crowley sighed into Aziraphale’s mouth and Aziraphale seemed to take that as a sign to deepen the kiss.

Now you’re likely thinking how on Earth is this not the most awkward, uncoordinated kiss in the world as neither angel nor demon had ever kissed before. The simple fact is that God was feeling a bad about the fact that She had felled the demon who turned out to be quite an alright fellow and thought that it would be a nice gift to him to have this blessing just the once… She was also just a sucker for a romance.

After what felt like eternity they finally parted, both breathing heavily and smiling like complete idiots.

“That sure was something… tickety-boo even.”

“Oh fuck off,” Crowley pushed Aziraphale away as he had the nerve to giggle.

Aziraphale sat there looking quite pleased with himself with his hair that was suitably ruffled by Crowley’s straying fingers, his bright pink cheeks and swollen lips. Crowley couldn’t imagine that he was fairing much better, but he was sure he didn’t look as adorable as Aziraphale did.

“You’ve gone soft, Crowley.”

“Only for you,” a delightful blush lit up Aziraphale’s cheeks and he gaze Crowley a dazingly smile.

Crowley shook his head and pressed a kiss to the angel’s cheek. Aziraphale looked at him absolutely giddily and Crowley had to cover his face to hide his blush. His hand was pulled away from his face and a kiss was pressed to the palm of his hand.

“This is sickening even for me.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

Aziraphale grinned at him.

“I need more wine to deal with this.”

“That sounds like a tip top idea, dear.”

They wasted the rest of their night away giggling as they got wine-drunk and shared soft touches. Crowley was glad to say he didn’t discorporate as he had feared and that he was happier than he’d ever been as he stared at Aziraphale who was talking animatedly about something or another with flushed cheeks. It was only when he stopped and asked Crowley what he was looking at.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

“Oh, you little devil!”

Aziraphale pounced on him and kissed him silly, laughing all the while.

To think that this all came from a few simple cheek kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it!


End file.
